Sunday, January 6, 2013

recovery (part II)

My son hates me.
The sun will never shine again.
My ass is broken.
I'm going to have to walk up every hill.
Winter lasts forever.
My Cheerios are stale.


These are the absolutes that rule my world and bring me to tears, without warning, lately.
Unpredictable, totally irrational...thank you, hormones.
Thank. You.

Tonight we Bill cooked an easy dinner for friends...they brought beer and salad and chocolate cake.
We sat in the kitchen and talked about baby stuff and other grown-up (and not so grown-up) stuff, too...
We enjoyed a few beers (okay, I enjoyed one, which is about all I can handle right now) and I laughed like my old self.
(the old self that's not a basket case over how dangerous and terrible the world is and how vulnerable a brand new baby is...)
A little less raw and anxious, a little more easygoing and relaxed.
Normal.
(or at least a pretty close approximation of normal)

Eleven days postpartum...
better than I expected.  


stale Cheerios...
NOT the end of the world.  
 



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